


swimsong

by bladeCleaner



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drowning, Homestuck Shipping World Cup, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladeCleaner/pseuds/bladeCleaner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"this summer i swam in the ocean,<br/>and i swam in a swimming pool,<br/>salt my wounds, chlorine my eyes,<br/>i'm a self-destructive fool, a self-destructive fool" - swimming song, loudon wainwright iii</p>
            </blockquote>





	swimsong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caddyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caddyl/gifts).



that morning dave strider wakes up to find that his bed is completely submerged. for a while he just watches bubbles float up towards the surface before he realizes that his eyes don't hurt and his shades are gone.   
  
he helplessly flails and starts to breathe in water and that's when his lungs begin to hurt and he thinks oh shit oh shit oh shit, and then: maybe this wouldn't be such a bad way to go, though his eyes and nostrils are already begin to burn and his throat wants to hack up all the water he's making himself swallow.  
  
then he remembers that he's already dead.  
  
\--  
  
the next morning he wakes up washed on shore, completely dry, still without his shades. he can't remember what happened the day before very clearly. someone must have pulled him out.   
  
he finds footsteps on the sand of the empty beach leading somewhere else. dave doesn't know what else to do but follow. he hopes to god it's not him on the other side, because dealing with one of him is already too much to process, let alone two.  
  
\--  
  
he follows the trail all the way to some douche in a cape sitting on a huge rock facing the water. the tide is beating against the stone, but the douche-presumably a troll by his lightning-zag horns-is completely untouched.  
  
well, at least it's not himself. he probably would have pushed himself into the water.  
  
the douche doesn't seem to notice him until he lets out a dreary, "sup?"  
  
then he whips around. dave takes in his purple streak with no hint of condescension, then notes that he's pointing a glowing wand at him with an expression of panic and fear. he looks even douchier from the front, all glasses and gills with a dozen golden rings on his knuckles.   
  
"what do you want?" there's a wobble to each w.   
  
"so you're gonna kill me after dragging me out of the water for kicks? is that a personal turn-on, or just a troll thing, because i'm starting to think murder is an insta-boner for all you aliens," dave says, dead-faced. ha-ha.  
  
"you're a fuckin riot," the douche sneers, but he lowers his wand anyway and sizes him up.   
  
"you look like fakemage pinkscarf's male clone," he says, finally, after a silent minute.  
  
"you mean rose? nah, we're not twins, just ectosiblings. green goo, blue buttons, fancy-looking technology and a nic cage fan, boom, you got me and one snarky broad for a best friend."  
  
to his surprise, a flash of a smile almost flits over the douche's face at  _snarky broad_ , to be quickly replaced by his default scowl.   
  
he turns away from dave then, to look at the sea.  
  
dave dithers until he says, "so, you gonna tell me your name?"  
  
eridan sighs and says, "eridan. eridan ampora."  
  
"am-pour-a? seriously, it's like you're trying to set yourself up for a jo-"  
  
"go away."  
  
dave surprises himself by saying, "no."  
  
eridan still doesn't turn around to look at him. "fine. you want to know who i am? i killed three trolls, i woulda killed you if i'd had the chance an i woulda enjoyed it. fuck off, human, i'm not in the mood to entertain you."  
  
dave holds up his hands and backs away.   
  
\--  
  
the next morning he finds himself in a half-sunken version of his house. there's water sloshing around on the floor. his turn tables float by. on his table, there's eridan, fiddling around with a pair of sunglasses. when he sees that dave's awake, he breaks them into half.  
  
"you  _asshole_ -"  
  
eridan smirks, then disappears.  
  
dave runs a hand down his face and wonders why trolls seem to just love mood whiplash.  
  
\--  
  
the next morning, it happens again, except that this time it's one of dave's crappy swords.  
  
\--  
  
the next morning, it's a smuppet.  
  
\--  
  
the next morning, dave seizes him by the collar and slams him against his room door before he has the opportunity to fade away. "what the fuck are you playing at," and eridan splays his hands in a mime-surrender, grinning, and dave's about to slug him before he takes a good look at his eyes past the glasses.  
  
"please hate me," his eyes are saying, practically pleading, and dave, a little shocked, roughs out a grunt, "why?"  
  
the seadweller boy looks at him with hard eyes. a long time ago, or maybe just before all this, someone broke him so well, but all his splinters have sharp edges that would make you bleed. a genocidal maniac and a teenage troll do not mix, but somehow eridan ampora managed to exist for six sweeps anyway before getting taken out of the existential rotation.   
  
"because that means you care," he finally breathes out, and dave closes his eyes and tries to remember what it felt like to be anything that was even close to normal. his heart hurts for this stupid troll he barely even knows and by all rights should hate, and if there was one thing that wasn't normal about dave strider aside from the weird bro-training, it was that he naturally gravitated to the craziest people imaginable.   
  
what eridan doesn't manage to say:  _i saved you when i realized what you were doing. i wanted you to chase me come after me show me that you could like me after i pushed you away- then i realized the only way anyone could ever care about me was if they hated me. so despise me. don't-don't leave, don't-_  
  
but oddly enough, even though they're strangers, dave can read it all on his face. maybe it's because they're ghosts and can read the air. maybe it's because he's become an expert on hating himself.  
  
"you're a passive-aggressive, unpredictable asshole," dave hears himself say, "but you're fucking lucky that's my type," and he kisses him before he even has time to think. he tastes of salt, brine and chlorine, and dave knows he's just another way to die but maybe this might be his favorite kind of destruction.


End file.
